A man fairly fell into the room; a man who was hatless, coatless, and whose face was streaked with blood. One of the men grabbed him and held him against the bar. It was the man Bud had knocked down at the entrance to the tunnel.
"Hell!" exploded a voice wonderingly. It was the other man who had carried a keg.
"What does this mean?" he yelled. "Campeau comes with me to carry the whisky, and now—what does it mean?"
He was peering into Campeau's face.
"Somebody hit me," whined Campeau. "I wake up outside. I never bring de keg."
"You no bring in the keg?"
"No, I tell you. Somebody hit me——"
"Where is that other man?" roared one of the crowd, "who bring in the other keg?"
Bud knew that the crisis was at hand and prayed that he might shoot straight. Cautiously he moved over beside the card-table and almost directly under the light.
He had drawn his gun, but kept it concealed. Now he turned and looked deliberately at Joe, who was scanning the crowd. Joe's eyes blinked wonderingly, as he saw Bud's face, and a gasp of surprise burst from his lips.